Chapter 7: What Vincent Said
The formal charges came through at nine the following morning.
Marcus was in the hospital cafeteria with a cup of coffee he had been holding for twenty minutes when his phone showed the notification — a text from Detective Reyes, three lines, no punctuation beyond the period at the end of the last sentence.
*Susan Carrow-Holt charged: unlawful imprisonment first degree, fraud, forgery of a business instrument.
Vincent Holt charged: unlawful imprisonment second degree, fraud.
Both held pending arraignment.
Bail hearing Thursday.*
He set the phone face-down on the table.
Eli was across from him, eating a bowl of cereal he had selected from the breakfast station with the seriousness of someone making a significant decision.
He had slept four hours on a waiting room couch and looked, somehow, more rested than Marcus felt.
"Did they charge them?" Eli asked without looking up.
"Yes."
"Both of them?"
"Both."
Eli ate a spoonful of cereal.
"Good."
Marcus looked at his son.
"You're not surprised."
"No."
"You were pretty sure last night."
Eli put his spoon down and thought about it.
"Vincent kept looking at the door," he said.
"The whole time.
Even when Grandpa was right there in the elevator.
He wasn't looking at Grandpa.
He was looking at the door." He picked his spoon back up.
"People who didn't do anything wrong don't look at doors like that."
Marcus stared at him.
"What?" Eli said.
"Nothing." Marcus picked up his coffee.
"Nothing at all."
Arthur was discharged at eleven.
He came out of the elevator in the clothes Marcus had brought from the car — a grey sweater, dark trousers, the kind of outfit that looked like it had been worn before and would be worn again.
He walked slowly but without assistance.
The bruising on his wrists was visible below the sweater cuffs.
He did not try to hide it.
In the car on the way back to Calder House, he was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "I need to call Gerald Foss."
Marcus glanced at him.
"The notary."
"He's going to hear about this and think he did something wrong.
He didn't.
Susan deceived him.
I want him to hear that from me before he hears it from anyone else."
"Dad.
You don't have to—"
"I want to." Arthur looked out the window at the Hudson going past below the road, grey and wide in the morning light.
"He's been the family notary since your mother was alive.
He came to her funeral.
I'm not going to let him find out through the news that his name is on a fraud document."
Marcus said nothing.
"I also need to call the lawyers," Arthur continued.
"The meeting that was set for the fifth — it needs to be rescheduled.
And Daniel needs to be part of it.
Properly.
Not as an afterthought."
"That's going to be complicated."
"Most things worth doing are."
Eli was in the back seat.
He had his head against the window and was watching the river.
"Grandpa," he said.
"Yes."
"When you were in there.
Did you think we were coming?"
Arthur was quiet for a moment.
"I thought Marcus would notice something was wrong," he said.
"Your father is not an easy man to fool for long.
I thought he would come." He paused.
"I didn't know you would be with him."
"Were you glad?"
"I was—" Arthur stopped.
Started again.
"When the light came in and I saw your face, I was embarrassed.
I didn't want you to see me like that.
That was the first thing I felt." He looked at the back of Eli's head.
"And then I was gladder than I have been about anything in a long time."
Eli nodded, still looking at the river.
They drove the rest of the way in silence that was not uncomfortable.
At Calder House, Marcus walked through the rooms while Arthur sat in the kitchen and Eli made tea — badly, but with concentration.
The torn portrait was still on the floor of the living room.
The elevator doors were still propped open.
A fine dust of plaster had settled on the rug from where the frame had pulled away from the wall.
Marcus stood in front of the open shaft for a long time.
The blue plastic bucket was still in the corner.
The folded blanket.
The two empty water bottles.
He took a photograph of each of them.
Then he called Detective Reyes.
"The items in the shaft," he said.
"When can they be removed?"
"The forensics team will be there this afternoon," she said.
"After that, it's your father's property."
"Thank you." He paused.
"Reyes.
Vincent's statement.
The one he gave last night.
Is any of it on record yet?"
"It will be part of the case file.
Why?"
"I want to know what he said about the timeline.
Specifically about the thirty-first.
What was supposed to happen after the signing."
A pause.
"Mr.
Carrow.
That information will come out in the proceedings."
"I know.
I'm asking because my father is in the kitchen right now and he hasn't asked me that question yet.
But he will.
And I want to be able to answer it honestly."
Another pause, longer.
"Vincent said they had a buyer," Reyes said.
"For the company.
A private equity group out of Boston.
The deal was contingent on Susan holding a controlling interest.
The signing on the thirty-first was the last piece."
Marcus looked at the open elevator shaft.
"After the signing," he said.
"Then what?"
"Vincent said they were going to call an ambulance.
Report that they'd found Arthur confused and disoriented.
Claim he had wandered off from a private care facility and somehow made his way back to the house." She paused.
"He said Susan had a facility lined up.
A real one this time.
She was going to have him committed for evaluation."
"And the shares would already be transferred."
"Yes."
Marcus was quiet.
"She wasn't going to kjll him," Reyes said.
"For what it's worth.
Everything Vincent said points to a plan that ended with Arthur alive and the company sold."
"Just without him having any say in either."
"Yes."
Marcus ended the call.
He stood in the living room for another minute.
Then he went to the kitchen, where Eli had produced two mugs of tea that were the wrong colour and Arthur was drinking his without comment.
"Dad," Marcus said.
"I need to tell you what they were planning."
Arthur wrapped both hands around his mug.
His wrists were still bruised beneath the sweater cuffs.
May you like
"Sit down," he said.
"And tell me."
